After 378 days, my little capturer of light is dead.

Waah

Usually I am grateful for gravity. It is nice being able to walk around in flipflops without floating off into the ether. Without gravity the planet would also float away from the sun, and I would not enjoy spending the last days of Earth’s existence in a polar winter.

Unfortunately it sometimes works against you, and on this occasion I can emphatically say that gravity was not my friend- though I accept that a force has no feelings and the idea of it being friendly, unfriendly, on my side or otherwise, is fallacy.

My late camera survived knocks and falls in three continents, the zealous attentions of dogs and children, the sticky caress of orange juice, the heat and humidity of a greenhouse in London and dozens of hours of juddering in the seat storage compartment of dirt bikes in the Thai countryside. However, it was a small fall in Chiang Mai that finally put an end to my little black capturer of light.

I am happy that we adventured together, and I am sad that you are dead, but all I am worried about now is whether Photoguard insurance will replace you. Looking at everyone else’s photographs causes me something close to physical pain so I hope they make a decision soon. Also, having to lug your useless corpse around with me is annoying.

In short, I have been busy mourning my camera and tending to a jellyfish sting. I’ll be back soon.

Since April 2014, I've gone motorbiking and wildcamping solo in the most bombed country in the world, learned how to harvest rice and cook maggots, survived a blood infection and a death threat, had a run-in with the Laotian Police and trained as a Divemaster.
I also like taking photographs, and drinking tea in other people's houses.